


Like a Blind Thief

by inkasrain



Category: Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Gen, Short, dark!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 21:11:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/602123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkasrain/pseuds/inkasrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They still called him “Thief.” He hated it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a Blind Thief

**Author's Note:**

> Set in a (rather moody) AU where Attolia blinded Gen rather than taking his hand, and Eddis has no other recourse but to marry the original king of Sounis.

They still called him “Thief.” He hated it.

Eddis had insisted. “I am queen,” she had said, hoarse and whispering after a particularly bitter spray of words had filled the air between them. “You are my Thief. I will force it past their tongues and through their teeth myself, if I have to. And yours as well, Eugenides.”  
  
Most of the time he hated her, too.  
  
Eugenides took another swallow of his wine as a sigh hummed through the wooden high table into his bones, cutting through the constant vibration of the rejoicing hall.  _Do you hate her tonight, little thief?_  the deep voice of the burned god asked,  _Even on this joyous night, when she martyrs herself for peace?_  
  
He considered this for a moment, letting the dark wine linger on his tongue. “Peace?” he muttered at length. “Not for my sake. What are the thieves to do in times of peace, god? Where do we of the quiet wars go when the fighting dies?”  
  
A heavy chuckle this time, and a creak of wood followed by shuffling footsteps. No one liked to sit by the Thief when he took to talking to himself.  
 _  
You always did have a way with words, Eugenides._  
  
“I take care to use my tongue while I still have it.”  
  
 _Wise as ever. We live, Eugenides, as all gods live when they are no longer needed._  
  
“Fading away into the walls of our crumbling temples, then?”   
  
 _Perhaps._  
  
Eugenides snorted into his wine cup. “Oh, god.”  
  
 _Or,_ intoned the invisible voice,  _We may choose not to exist like a blinded thief, groping at the loss of his own existence until all he knows turns to dust in his hands; we may choose to touch the light before all the darkness without becomes darkness within._

The song of shattering glass blended a bite of pain in the thief's fingers. Wine flowed like blood across the table.

_We may_ _choose,_ the god continued, _To allow other uses to be found for that force which we alone offer the world._  

The space of several heartbeats passed as the blind thief in question clenched his jaw, the very air seeming like a solid thing in his lungs. Eugenides’ breath hissed through his teeth.

“What use, god?" he spat. "What use is there for such as us? For broken blades moldering without war, for crumbling statues? What service can rotten relics do the world??”

The only answer was the faintest echo of an unanswered question brushing his ears.  
  
 _Do you hate her tonight?_

***

Hours later, he found Eddis where he knew she would be. Stumbling through the halls finally silent under the weight of drink and food, he came to her small throne room. He knew as well where she would sit, hunched on the wooden steps below her modest chair.  
  
The Queen of Sounis and Eddis said nothing as her blind thief approached her silently for the first time in years, since that doomed reconnaissance. Her thief stayed silent as well, and Eddis watched him through swollen eyes as padded toward her and sat, his grace no less uncanny for all that it was still familiar.  
  
They sat together until the sun began to peek its soft rays over the mountains and into the high windows of the small room. Eugenides cleared his throat, and spoke without preamble.  
  
“You will need a new ambassador to Attolia.”


End file.
